


crawl into my heart, take me apart

by singsongsung



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Post-Break Up, Pregnancy Scares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 04:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/pseuds/singsongsung
Summary: She finds him midday on a Wednesday, just after the bell for lunch.Post-2x08.





	crawl into my heart, take me apart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an anonymous ask sent in to veronicadvalle's tumblr that I just could not ignore. 
> 
> This does not take the 2x09 promo into account. 
> 
> Title from Cat Pierce's "You Belong to Me."

She finds him midday on a Wednesday, just after the bell for lunch. It’s been twelve days since she got into a car and left him in a parking lot on the south side of town.

“Archie,” she says. His name in her mouth is like a blade between his ribs. He’s always liked the way she says it, the little emphasis she puts on the _ch_. He’s always liked to try and make that syllable pitch higher with his hands on her body, turning it into a gasp, or lower, drawing it out as a hissed sound between her teeth that will sometimes, when he’s lucky, morph into a moan. He looks at her and tries not to let his heart hurt. 

“May I speak with you?” she asks, her fingers curled tight around the strap of her bag on her shoulder. 

He hesitates. He can’t figure out who’s the asshole here - if it’s him, for pushing when he _knew_ that he shouldn’t, or if it’s her, for walking away when there was still so much left to fight for. He feels like it might be both: a seventy-thirty split. After several seconds have passed, he says, “Okay.” 

They go to a lab and shut the door. This is where they always end up, somehow; he’s made a bad joke or two about chemistry, about biology, and she’s rolled her eyes but there was always a smile there, too, in those eyes that mocked him, glittering at him before he kissed her. He remembers being in this very room with her _before_ , before they were together, walking up close to her and watching her school the smile off her face, touching just one of her fingers with one of his own and feeling electricity spark. It’s so strange, now, to be here in the _after_ , keeping a careful three feet of space between them. 

He used to divide his life along the line of his parents’ divorce: before the split, and after. In the past few months, Jason Blossom has been his chronological touchstone: before that fateful July fourth, and afterward. Now, he thinks his new marker of time might be Veronica, and all of his memories will slot themselves into two new categories, before Veronica Lodge, and after her. 

She doesn’t say anything, not for a long time, so he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweater and asks her, “What’s up?” 

Veronica looks up at him, something wary in her eyes. Now that they’re alone, he can see that the little black wings of eyeliner she always wears are absent, and that she’s wearing no lipstick on a mouth that looks a little chapped, the soft skin of her lips appearing tender. 

He frowns. “Veronica, is something wrong?” 

“Yes,” she says. She takes a long, long breath, like she can’t manage to get enough air, and sucks in both of her cheeks for an instant before she says, “I’m late, Archie.” 

His frown deepens. “For what? It’s lunchtime.” 

There is a flicker of something in Veronica’s eyes, a soft kind of irritation, as if it’s been blanketed in affection - and then, abruptly, the flicker disappears, replaced by a glossy sheen. Archie’s heart rate picks up; he hates to see people cry. 

“My period, Archie,” she says quietly. “My period’s late. By a week.” 

He blinks at her and then breathes, “Oh.” A beat later, after her words have actually sunk in, he adds, “Oh, my god,” with a slightly frantic edge to his voice. 

“Yes,” Veronica says, staring at the floor. Her voice is clogged with wetness. “That does sum it up.” 

He’s not used to her like this, not used to her looking down. He’s used to Veronica’s chin tilted upward, with pride, with stubbornness, with authority, with a sweet smile directed at him. He takes a few slow steps forward and very carefully tucks two fingers beneath her chin, lifting her head again. Her eyes are swimming with tears and the sight makes his breath catch. 

He forgets that he’s angry. He forget’s that he’s hurt. He moves both hands to her face and swipes his thumbs gently beneath her eyes. “It’s - it’s okay,” he says, though it doesn’t feel okay, not even close. “We’ll - ” He wracks his brain for the next logical step. “A test. You need… a test, right? Did you take one?”

She gives her head a minute shake. 

“Okay.” He feels a small burst of relief at knowing what to do, at being the one to figure it out. “So that’s what we’ll do. We’ll go get you a test.” 

“We can’t do it here,” she says. “This town is the size of a postage stamp, _someone_ would see us, and there’s an unsuccessful serial killer prowling around looking for _sinners_. We can’t.” 

“Okay,” Archie says. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. We’ll go to Greendale. I’ll get my dad’s truck. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she whispers. 

A moment later, she tilts into him, her forehead pressing against his chest. She doesn’t touch him in any other way, just breathes shakily against him. 

Slowly, so slowly, Archie lifts a hand and rests it on the back of her neck. 

 

 

They walk to his house together. She doesn’t say anything, so neither does he, but he notes, with relief, that her head is up and her gaze is forward. 

His father has, thankfully, been getting rides to work from a member of his crew, since driving is not recommended while he's taking his medications. He hasn’t been doing much, really, just slowly chipping away at the backlog of paperwork, and Archie’s been privately wondering if his dad should stay home and rest for just a little bit longer - but today, he’s incredibly relieved that Fred declared he couldn’t stand another day of laying on the couch. 

Vegas trots out to greet Veronica, rubbing himself against her legs. She says nothing about the golden furs that stick to her black skirt, just pats the top of the dog’s head. Archie grabs the keys. 

The ride to Greendale is silent, too. Archie keeps sneaking glances over at Veronica, whose hands are knotted in her lap. When they hit a bump in the road, her hands are jostled up against her stomach and they stay there for a moment longer than the shift in gravity demands, before she yanks her hands apart and shoves them beneath her thighs. 

The quiet becomes unbearable. Archie turns on the radio. 

 

 

At the pharmacy, they stand together in the ‘family planning’ section and stare at a wide selection of boxes. A middle-aged woman walks by them, on her way to the vitamins, and Archie suddenly feels embarrassed. He clears his throat. “Uh. Which one?” 

“I guess this one is probably the best,” Veronica says, crouching down and reaching out with shaking fingers to pick up the most expensive test, with a box that boasts of early detection. She skims her tongue over her bottom lip as she turns to him. “Do - do you have cash? Daddy can see all the charges on my credit card.” 

Archie nearly feels faint - he hadn’t thought, until this moment, about Hiram Lodge’s wrath if he has, indeed, impregnated the intimidating man’s daughter. He grabs the shelf to steady himself and says, “Yeah.” 

Veronica nods and turns, heading toward the front of the store, but he grabs her elbow at the last second, pulling his hand away quickly once she glances back at him. It hurts to touch her; it feels like a reminder of an absence. 

“You should get a drink,” he says. “Soda or juice or something. You have to… have to pee, right?” 

“Right,” Veronica murmurs. 

He can’t read her expression. He leads her to the drinks. 

 

 

On the drive back, Veronica polishes off a bottle of diet soda. Once she’s done, she tears its label off, fingernails slowly peeling it up. 

 

 

She takes the test in the bathroom while Archie paces outside, almost nauseous in his anxiety. His father will be so, so disappointed. His mother will probably cry. Hiram may very well have him murdered. And Veronica - 

He doesn’t know what Veronica will do, should a plus sign appear on the little screen. Will she resent him? Will she even want to have the baby? Will this be the final nail in their relationship’s coffin; will this give them a chance to try again? Does this mean anything, the fact that a condom broke and her birth control failed? 

She opens the door of the bathroom, her eyes a little wide, a little red. “We have to wait two more minutes,” she says. 

The test sits atop the water tank of the toilet, such a tiny, innocuous object with the power to change their lives. Veronica perches on the edge of the tub, looking prim and proper as she always does, but also looking very small. Archie joins her. After a moment of sitting next to her, feeling the tension that's coming off her in waves, he reaches out to take her hand. 

She lets him. She even slips her fingers between his and squeezes. 

The timer on her phone goes off. She stands up to silence it. Archie stands, too, feeling panicked, feeling like he needs to _say_ something, _do_ something, before she looks at that test. He touches her hip; the velvety material of her skirt is very soft beneath his hand. “Veronica - ”

She shakes her head and meets his eyes with her own. There are many things in her face he can’t understand, but one thing he reads very clearly: _Let’s just look._

He nods. 

Veronica picks up the pregnancy test. It seems, to Archie, like she stares at it for a thousand years. His voice crackles with nerves when he asks, “Ronnie?” 

She turns it toward him. There’s still a little tremor in her fingers. “It’s negative,” she says, and he can see that she’s right. There’s a minus sign, no hint of even the faintest line running through it perpendicularly. It’s negative; she’s not pregnant. 

“Oh, my god,” he says on a heavy exhale, running both hands through his hair, exhaustion setting in as his anxiety abates. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Yeah,” she says, and turns around to put the test back in the box it came in - she won’t risk throwing it out in his home. When her shoulders begin to shake, he wonders if she’s laughing, but then he hears her sob. 

“Veronica?” he murmurs, confused. He puts a hand on her shoulder and turns her so that she’s facing him. 

Great big tears roll down her cheeks and drip off her chin. “I - ” Her sentence stops as soon as it starts, and she gasps before she sobs again, squeezing her eyes shut as she cries. 

“Ronnie,” he says quietly, giving her shoulder an awkward little pat, and then he decides _fuck it_ , and gathers her in his arms. She still fits the same way. She still fits perfectly. “Ronnie, it’s alright.” He rubs his hand up and down her back. “Shh, it’s alright.” 

“I’m not ready,” she chokes out against his chest. Her tears are soaking through his shirt. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be ready; you’re not pregnant. You’re okay. It’s okay.” 

She gulps in air, and more tears land on his shirt and make their way through the fabric until they touch his skin. “Not that,” she whispers. “Not that, Archie, I - ” She pulls back from him, sniffling and wiping impatiently at her face. “Archie, I’m not ready, but - but I feel it.” She takes a broken breath. “I feel it, I promise I do, I - ”

“Veronica,” he sighs, tucking her hair back behind her ear. He cups her cheek in his palm. He wants to believe her. 

“Archie,” she breathes, her eyes pinned on his, and just like that, he does. He believes her. He believes her and he loves her and he’ll wait for her, he doesn’t _care_ how long it takes, he should never have said the things he did. He loves her and he wants to keep loving her, every single day. 

He pulls her back into his arms, holding her close. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Ronnie.” He swallows hard and tells her, in a serious voice, a voice full of meaning, a voice made a little tight by the lump in his throat, “I love you.”

She clutches at him and he presses a kiss into her hair. He does not wait for her to say it back. 

 

 

fin.


End file.
